


The Dwindling Supply of Rose Petal Tea

by Metallic_Sweet



Series: Wear Your Colours [4]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Courtly Love, Cultural Differences, During Timeskip (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Oral Sex, Past Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra, Pillow Books, Supernatural Elements, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-23 01:47:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23003791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metallic_Sweet/pseuds/Metallic_Sweet
Summary: Lorenz’s first time is with Ferdinand in the guest bedroom off House Gloucester’s conservatory.This is not what Lorenz expected.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Lorenz Hellman Gloucester
Series: Wear Your Colours [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1527893
Comments: 16
Kudos: 158





	The Dwindling Supply of Rose Petal Tea

**Author's Note:**

> Ties into chapter 5/section 12 of [Wear Your Colours](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20627687/chapters/49421873).

**i.**

Lorenz’s first time is with Ferdinand in the guest bedroom off House Gloucester’s conservatory. 

This is not what Lorenz expected. 

Lorenz, like many, had certain expectations for his first sexual experience. First and foremost, he expected it to be in his marriage bed. He assumed, therefore, it would be with a woman, and he expected to need to please her first. He liked the idea, especially when he fantasised, that he would be able to find her favourite pleasure spots. Romances and pillow books always indicated lips, breasts, and, of course, below the waist, although sometimes Lorenz got too embarrassed and skimmed over more explicit details. He trusted he would be able to find his way around on instinct and by asking appropriate and sensitive questions. 

He did not expect his first time to be in the guest bedroom off his House conservatory. He did not expect it to be with a man, or to be with someone from Adrestia, and certainly he did not expect it to be with Ferdinand von Aegir. He had not envisioned his first time to be in the middle of a war and after something so uneventful as a weak cup of a dwindling supply of rose petal tea. He had expected to be the one initiating the first kiss. 

Not that Ferdinand’s lips against his and the delighted little hum he made was dissatisfying. Quite the opposite. It just is not what Lorenz had spent twenty-one years envisioning.

It was clear that Ferdinand had experience. He knew how to kiss. How to tilt his head. How to navigate a partner who was taller than him. His hands were warm and secure on Lorenz’s right shoulder and the juncture of his left shoulder and neck. His balance was sure, even as he shifted his centre of balance from his to the balls of his feet. The kiss was soft but not gentle, a little bit of a tease and a bit more of a promise. 

He pulled back, inhaling to catch his breath. Lorenz opened his eyes, which had fallen shut on their own accord, to find Ferdinand smiling at him. Boyish and mischievous. That look made Lorenz’s heart crawl into his throat. He hadn’t seen Ferdinand in this way since he appeared on the Bridge. Since the start of the war. 

“Well?” he asked, utterly smug. “Is this satisfactory?”

Lorenz nearly choked. He coughed. Cleared his throat. Blinked as Ferdinand beamed up at him. 

“Yes,” he managed, suddenly aware of how he was gripping Ferdinand’s sides. 

“Satisfactory,” Ferdinand murmured, edging closer with a tilting to his smile. “I endeavour to be fantastic, Lorenz. Befitting of our noble stations. Here, permit me to show you.” 

There was no permitting. Ferdinand leaned in for another kiss, and Lorenz leaned with him. He let Ferdinand lead, parting his own lips to another delighted little hum that just preceded Ferdinand darting his tongue inside. 

The hum was what did Lorenz in, he later realised. Ferdinand had been fading over the past several months. Lorenz was not sure why because there are many things that Ferdinand does that he cannot know for the safety of his House and Gloucester itself. Ferdinand had been eating less and lacked energy to do more than ride in the morning and work. For the past week, Lorenz had come to cajole him to dinner and cards, but Ferdinand had been too weary to do more than a cup of tea. 

This night was the first in a long time that Lorenz had been able to hold a substantial conversation with Ferdinand, even though they only spoke of Saint Cichol’s upcoming feast day. The discussion cheered Ferdinand, who was pleased to talk about vestments and decorations for the town church and offerings for the House chapel. They ate a light dinner of pike and vegetables, and the tea was weak but pleasant. Lorenz wasn’t exactly sure why tonight Ferdinand was feeling better, or how exactly they went from talking about saint day hymns to kissing. Somehow, in the moment when they had both stood up simultaneously, it felt natural. 

“Mhm…” 

Ferdinand pulled back. The expression he leveled Lorenz was somewhere between amused and fond. The latter was an emotion Lorenz had never seen him direct at another human being. It was, he later realised, an expression Lorenz had never seen Ferdinand wear. 

“How about we take this to a bed?” 

“A bed?” Lorenz echoed, quite dumbly.

Ferdinand clearly bit his lip briefly to stop himself laughing. “Yes, Lorenz, a bed,” he said, almost teasing and very fond. “They are comfortable. There is one just behind me.” 

“Oh,” Lorenz said, suddenly far too flushed and flustered to say or do anything more.

Ferdinand tilted his head slightly. Understanding worked its way over his face. It was a little annoying. Lorenz had no idea how he was still thinking. 

“Lorenz,” he started, and his tone was rather warm, and Lorenz wanted suddenly to kiss him again, “have you done this before?”

“What?” Lorenz asked, very stupidly. 

“Ah,” Ferdinand said, hands still on his shoulders; he cannot keep the amusement off his face nor from twitching his lips; “I am asking –”

“I know what you’re asking,” Lorenz interrupted; he would later realise how petulant he sounded. “I am well-informed.”

“Yes, you always are,” Ferdinand said, and his smile widened even as he squeezed Lorenz’s shoulders placatingly. “But if you are used to pleasing a feminine form –”

“Of course not,” Lorenz said, which got raised eyebrows and honest surprise; he made the mistake of hurrying to clarify with, “I have more than enough pillow books –”

Ferdinand did burst out laughing then, bright and unbidden. “Pillow books!” he crowed, and the only reason Lorenz didn’t pull away at the near mockery was that it had been so long since he had seen Ferdinand laugh like this. “Oh. Oh, dear. Lorenz, I am sorry. I do not mean to laugh.”

Lorenz bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from saying something unnecessary and potentially unkind. Ferdinand smiled at him, lifting his left hand to rub the cheek and stop Lorenz biting it. The smile was so fond and soft in a way that Ferdinand rarely was that Lorenz did stop biting his cheek. He let himself lean into the touch, feeling both embarrassed and soothed. 

“There now,” Ferdinand said, somewhat unnecessarily.

He leaned up. The kiss was warm, and Lorenz responded faster now that it was less of a surprise and more familiar. His arms tightened around Ferdinand’s waist without Lorenz realising it until Ferdinand made another of those pleased hums against his lip. He pulled back enough to look up, breaking the kiss. 

“Well,” Ferdinand whispered. 

He stepped close. Closed the remaining gap between them as his hands slid from Lorenz’s shoulders to grasp his left bicep. His left hand slipped lower over Lorenz's chest. 

“I am better than a pillow book.”

**ii.**

Ferdinand von Aegir is much better than all of Lorenz’s pillow books combined. 

**iii.**

There are, of course, consequences. 

Lorenz is aware that he holds himself to a high standard. The highest, he would readily argue, and for good reason, he would argue even more ardently. His parents only had one child, and the fate of House Gloucester rests upon him. He must be as upstanding and noble as possible, and that reflects his conduct in both public and private life. There is no room for error because every mistake and inadequacy has possible far-reaching impact on his House and Lorenz as a person. Once he becomes Count Gloucester, his actions will have potential broad impact upon the Alliance as well. 

Embarrassingly, bedding Ferdinand brings to light a great deal of Lorenz’s inadequacies. The first time, which they have partially clothed and with Ferdinand guiding, is a resounding success. It takes two more similar encounters over the following week for Lorenz to catch on that he is likely getting a lot more out of their activities than Ferdinand. Some of this could be attributed to their gap in experience, but it does bother Lorenz that Ferdinand doesn't come aside from the second time. As Ferdinand tends to, he waves this away with a smile and a laugh when Lorenz points it out after their fourth time. 

“Don’t worry,” he says, lying down next to Lorenz and clearly still aroused. “Go to sleep; you have to be up in a few hours.” 

Because Lorenz had just come twice, he couldn’t do much but feel faintly guilty and fall asleep. By the time he woke up, the sun was partially risen and Ferdinand had long since left for his morning ride. A covered cup and fresh water pitcher sat on the reading desk along with an extra set of morning towels and Ferdinand’s shaving razor. 

Lorenz sat for a long moment in Ferdinand’s bed. His hair fell on his face. He felt a bizarre combination of touched and upset. The upset wasn’t because Ferdinand had left; he always did a morning ride at sunrise. It wasn’t embarrassing, either. He had already reconciled that the entirety of the House was aware at this point that Lorenz and Ferdinand were sleeping together. It was more that Lorenz felt like he had done Ferdinand some sort of disservice without knowing exactly what the disservice was. 

It sits like a rock in Lorenz’s stomach. He goes about his morning routine at Ferdinand’s basin, feeling out of sorts. Ferdinand even has a pot of Lorenz’s preferred shaving cream. Lorenz stares at it for a long moment, emotions warring within him. He resolves to speak to Ferdinand first thing after dressing for the day. 

Unfortunately, Ferdinand is out, called unusually to Edmund at the Margrave’s request to look at some Church artefacts that turned up on the black market. Lorenz learns from his father that at least one of the artefacts bears the Crest of Cichol, which is the full reason why Ferdinand is involved. It is rare that Lorenz feels like there is a problem he cannot surmount, but considering he isn’t sure what the problem is, he feels incredibly out of depth. 

Therefore, it is absolutely fortuitous that Hilda comes to Gloucester for shopping later that day. In the past couple of years, Lorenz has come to consider Hilda not only a good friend but his closest confidant. She has become incredibly hardworking, and Lorenz finds the gossip about her different flings completely undeserved and often unkind. Hilda is sincere in all of her pursuits, and she writes Lorenz all the details both to help improve her hands’ strength and also because she knows Lorenz enjoys pillow books. They used to exchange them back in Garreg Mach. 

“Lorie!” she cries when Lorenz meets her at the eastern gate and already burdened with her first round of shopping. “It’s not fair—you have all the cool stuff!”

“What?” Lorenz asks, completely forgetting to greet her in return as she shoves her bags into his arms and nearly knocks him over. “Hilda!”

“Be a dear, please, I’ve been traveling and am hot and sweaty,” Hilda says, pecking him on the cheek and certainly not sweating in her light armour and pink silks. “How’s your mum? Is Ferdie in? Let’s go greet them.”

“Ah,” Lorenz says, recovering slightly if only because his heart clenches. “Ferdinand left this morning on business. I think both of my parents are having a nap right now. Would you like some tea?” 

“Of course I would,” Hilda says, and she reaches out and takes one of the bags, which means Lorenz’s emotions were too close to the surface. “Now, what tea do I feel like…” 

There is barely any of most of her favourites left, but there is the last of the rose petal tea that Lorenz has been making for Ferdinand the past couple of weeks. He brews the remainders as Hilda tucks into one of the shortbreads that Lorenz fetched from the kitchens. She makes a very bright sound of delight. 

“Really, you have the best food and shopping,” Hilda sighs as she polishes off a second biscuit before Lorenz can pour her tea. “Edmund wine is still the best, but you have options.” 

“What’s wrong with Gloucester wine?” Lorenz asks as he sets the teapot on the tray. 

“Edmund wine is more full-bodied,” Hilda says as Lorenz seats himself. “I prefer a bit more, you know? Plus, I know you water dinner wine as a rule.” 

“It is sensible to water dinner wine,” Lorenz says, reaching for a biscuit and placing it on his saucer for safekeeping. “Wine is good for your health, but if it’s too strong, it is quite the opposite.” 

Hilda frowns at him. She frowns more with her eyes than her mouth, which means she is serious. Lorenz resists the urge to look away from her. If she’s figured out something is wrong, then he can only do damage control. 

She reaches for the cream with a sigh. 

“You know you can confide in me, Lorie,” she says, genuine as she rarely is. 

Lorenz watches her pour cream into her tea. Tries to gather himself. 

In their pillow books, this kind of conversation is supposed to take place in whispers. It should be delighted and a little scandalous. Lorenz was always a little judgemental of the secrecy of courtly love, if only because he disliked the lies that inevitably would have to be told. 

The issue here is:

“Ferdinand and I –” and Lorenz’s voice proceeds to betray him and crack at the most inopportune time. 

Hilda snorts her tea out of her nose and all over the remaining shortbread. Lorenz hastily grabs a clean linen which Hilda takes gratefully, coughing and blinking furiously to clear her watering eyes. 

“Lorie!” Hilda coughs, which would have been a shriek otherwise. “Since when!” 

Lorenz grabs and offers her another linen so she can mop up the liquid that got on her chest and tabletop. He sits back. Tries to take a good breath so his voice doesn’t crack again. 

“We…” He looks down at his teacup, aware he is starting to turn as bright as his own hair. “A week and a half ago…” 

“Oh,” Hilda says, softer but clearly communicating her shock as she presses a hand to her breast. “ _Oh_.” 

Lorenz’s mouth falls open on its own accord. She stares at him with wide, almost disbelieving eyes. 

“But…” she starts before the gears start turning and she boggles at him. “You didn’t court him! What happened? Were you drunk?” 

“No!” Lorenz cries, absolutely scandalised. “Of course not!” 

“Then…” she pauses; it is incredibly disconcerting to watch Hilda consider and discard multiple scenarios without trying to hide her thought process for once. “Wait. I know Ferdinand was not courting you –”

It is Lorenz’s turn to boggle. “How –”

“Lorenz,” Hilda interrupts, eyes humongous and looking half as if she is about to lunge over the table to grasp Lorenz either to shake him or prevent him running away, “do you mean to tell me that you are bedding Ferdinand von Aegir as a _fling_?”

“No!” Lorenz says, very loudly and with quite a lot of anger.

“Oh, thank the Goddess,” Hilda says, sagging in her seat.

Lorenz takes a deep breath. He doesn’t want anyone to come to investigate the shouting. He definitely does not want anyone alerting either of his parents to this conversation. It is already mortifying enough as it is. If his mother gets wind of this, Lorenz may simply expire. 

Hilda takes her own deep breath. She recovers enough to sit up and pick up her tea. She sips it. Sets the cup back down on the dirty saucer. 

“Tell me everything,” Hilda says.

So Lorenz does. 

When he finishes, Hilda’s expression is pensive. She drums her fingers briefly on the table, frowning. 

“So, you two haven’t talked about it except to have sex,” she says.

Lorenz nods. Hilda purses her lips. Sighs through her nose. 

“Do you think he’d want to talk about it?” 

Lorenz swallows. He looks down at his tea. He has barely drank any. It’s too strong. 

“I don’t know,” he says. 

A part of Lorenz that he tries and often fails to control expects Hilda to simply wave off his concerns. The other part expects the cautious pause she makes. Her lips press briefly together before she speaks.

“You know,” Hilda says, not unkindly, “Ferdie does have… baggage.” 

“We live together,” Lorenz says, too tense to dress his language appropriately. “I am aware.” 

Hilda’s lips twitch. She pauses to take a sip of tea. When she returns her cup to the saucer, she considers it with more care than it needs. 

“He is very earnest,” she says, looking at her pale tea. “I thought it made him very charming during our academy days. But looking back…”

She pauses. Lorenz resists the urge to prod her. He waits, his leg attempting to twitch under the table. 

“Among the Adrestian nobility, almost all courting is carried out through letters. Ferdinand got a lot of mail, but he didn’t send nearly as much. I wasn’t being nosy,” Hilda clarifies, rolling her eyes at Lorenz’s partially opened mouth. “A lot of people used to gossip about Ferdinand’s mail. We all suspected he had suitors or an overly dedicated singular suitor, and he was doing the appropriate Adrestian courting in playing hard to get.” 

This is news to Lorenz. He frowns, picking up his own cup. He sips his cooling tea, wishing not for the first time that he had paid better attention to others at the academy. Looking back on his mindless, anxiety-riddled pursuit of a wife:

Lorenz swallows, grimaces, and sets his cup down. 

“Who were the likely candidates?” 

Hilda sighs. She rests his cheek on her hand and her elbow on the table. It is bad manners, but Lorenz finds it in himself to excuse her for the moment. She frowns slightly. Not because she is having trouble remembering because Lorenz knows her memory of gossip is like a steel trap. 

“Due to his father’s position,” she says, looking slightly to the left of Lorenz, “a lot of people were under the impression that it was someone older than him. It wasn’t like he could marry up within our age group unless it was to Edelgard, and since his mother was a member of a Bergliez branch house, it ruled out Fleche. Bernadetta and Petra were part of our courting gossip circle, so that ruled them out as well. House Aegir would gain nothing politically from Faerghus nobility, and if it had been any Alliance House, we would have heard about it.

“So,” and Hilda looks at Lorenz more directly, “it made sense that he had older suitors. The popular suggestion is that Lord Arundel might have been assisting Duke Aegir with the process, since he used to be involved with vetting King Ionis’ consorts. Ferdinand also wasn’t attempting to court anyone at school, so we assumed that he was waiting on his father to make a decision before responding to any of the letters.”

“And was he?” Lorenz asks after Hilda pauses for a long moment.

She grimaces. Lorenz watches her look away again, this time out the window. 

“Dorothea had a theory that Ferdinand was delaying the process, too,” she says, and Lorenz can tell by the strain beneath her voice that this is what Hilda thinks as well. “She knew he and Hubert spent a lot of time together despite how they appeared in public, and she suspected Ferdinand was sharing his mail with him. We all thought Ferdinand wanted to enjoy his time at the academy and graduate, and then we’d all hear promptly through invitations that he would be getting married to someone like the Duchess Boramas.” 

Lorenz grimaces. He has nothing against the quiet, almost apolitical Duchess Boramas, but she is nearly twice Ferdinand’s age and only just within children-bearing years. It is not an optimal match, but the main ports for Adrestian trade with Morfis are in her territory. And if none of the children with the Duchess bore Crests, Ferdinand would be young enough to divorce and remarry. If Lord Arundel was involved, he could even convince the Church to turn a blind eye to Ferdinand legitimising a Crest-bearing child not of his lady wife. 

Lorenz knows Ferdinand. He would have gone along with it all out of a sense of duty, but it would have crushed his spirit in an utterly different way than the war. Once a child was in the mix, Ferdinand would have seemed to be at his father and likely Lord Arundel’s bidding. To them, he would have appeared the perfect puppet. 

Lorenz does not have to imagine what Ferdinand would do to keep his children safe. He remembers too well what Ferdinand was like two years ago on the Bridge. He knew what his father really was. Lorenz has the comfort of knowing Ferdinand did not raise his hand against his father, and those involved serve Ferdinand with fervent, almost unsettling loyalty. Lorenz is also a scion of a House. He knows what can happen when the future is threatened. 

It would have all ended, one way or another, in flames. 

Hilda glances back at him, clearly following Lorenz’s train of thought. 

“Ferdinand can be sweet,” she says, not unkindly, “but he isn’t gentle.” 

“He can be very gentle,” Lorenz says, faintly offended. 

“No, I mean…” Hilda sighs and rests her cheek on her hand without breaking eye contact. “It’s been a while since you’ve fought alongside him on the battlefield, and honestly, Lorie, there’s a reason for that.”

Lorenz resists the urge to grit his teeth. “I am aware –”

“He’s always been like that,” Hilda says, which feels more like a punch to the gut than anything they’ve spoken about today. “It makes him almost impossible to hit on the field. You don’t get to that point if you’re at all gentle.” 

Lorenz takes a deep breath. Lets it out. He swallows.

“Hilda, I do apologise, but I don’t see how this is related to…” 

He flaps his hand awkwardly. 

Hilda sighs, but she does smile a little bit. It isn’t disapproving. If anything, Lorenz would call her expression rueful. 

“What I’m trying to say is you might be going about him all wrong.” 

**iv.**

There are those in House Gloucester who disapprove of Ferdinand. Not so much the Ferdinand who is their polite and undemanding guest. Ferdinand as a person is well-liked. He helps to muck out the stables, and he assists with chores in the training hall and occasionally the kitchens. He is friendly and personable, eager to learn everyone’s names, families and relationships, and goals in life. 

They disapprove of Ferdinand’s role in the war. Ferdinand’s exact role is not shared outside of those who absolutely need to know, but the sensitivity of Ferdinand’s mail, the secrecy of his comings and goings, and Hubert’s various attempts at provocation are factors that cannot completely escape attention. Lorenz is aware that his family’s treasurer and the head of the guard are not keen on the risks, and most of the staff are reluctant to handle Ferdinand’s mail at all. Lorenz understands their concerns and cannot fault them. 

Despite his own good sense, Lorenz resents Ferdinand’s duties as spymaster. He deeply disapproves of how Claude and the Roundtable utilises Ferdinand. Lorenz understands and acknowledges that he does not have the authority nor experience to substantiate his disapproval. He is also biased by his emotions. Logically, Ferdinand is their best choice. They do not have any other option with nearly as many connections in Adestria. It is also true that Ferdinand does everything in his role willingly and is transparent with his own motivation to reclaim Aegir. 

But Claude and the Roundtable ask too much. The Roundtable as a body takes advantage of Ferdinand’s desire to go home, justifying his use and considering him disposable and separate from itself. Lorenz, when he sits beside his father, has gotten used to biting his tongue so hard it swells, listening to the debate and watching Ferdinand’s mild, unwaveringly calm expression as he awaits orders and gives reports. It is even worse when Ferdinand departs without announcement from Gloucester, and Lorenz only knows because he calls on Ferdinand to join the family at dinner. 

Claude is no help. This, perhaps more than anything else about the whole ordeal, infuriates Lorenz. Claude is more than aware that Ferdinand is overworked and in a tenuous position, and he still takes Ferdinand on campaigns and occasionally sends him alone to the Throat. Lorenz doesn’t think Claude means to take advantage, but he does, and he and Ferdinand drink too much when they’re left alone together, and it all makes Lorenz completely crazy. He feels like his mother in her declining health, shrieking at her own uselessness as everyone else scurries around her. 

He knows his attitude makes people avoid him, but he can’t help it. His concerns, while poorly expressed, are valid. Ferdinand has never completely recovered from the condition he was in when he arrived in Gloucester. Physically, he is hale, but there is an unevenness to him that Helen, Lorenz’s aunt and House healer, worries about due to its persistence. Lorenz would have thought it was new, but she is of the opinion that it isn’t. 

“He doesn’t seem as troubled as he would if it was a recent change,” she said as the two of them had a rare lunch together after she had seen Ferdinand one morning; Lorenz had just seen him off for unknown business in Ordelia. “If it wasn’t for the war, I would suggest he spend time in the country.” 

Lorenz paused in cutting a piece of tomato. Helen sighed, reaching to add sugar to her tea.

“He puts on a brave face,” Helen said as she stirred in the sugar, “but I spoke with Isabella and Manuela, and they’re both concerned. He does not seem to have plans for himself in the future outside of continuing to fulfil his duty as Duke Aegir. They both said he used to have much more of an appetite, too.

“As it is,” she sighs, picking up her cup, “there isn’t much we can do. Try to encourage him to eat more, and get him to spend more time riding. It sounds counterintuitive to his fatigue, but it is the one thing he enjoys. Give him another horse if you have to.” 

It isn’t easy. Ferdinand rides most mornings at or before sunrise and has a tendency to work through breakfast and lunch. Sometimes he departs Gloucester during the day for business and returns late wanting only a bath and to lie down. He doesn’t seem to enjoy food any longer, although the one person he seems to enjoy taking meals with is Lorenz’s mother, possibly because most of Margharita’s meals these days are simple and revolve around the tea more than food. 

He also, for reasons Lorenz has a difficult time phantoming, seems to enjoy Margharita’s company in general. On rainy days, Lorenz sometimes comes to his mother to find her and Ferdinand sitting together in front of the hearth. They talk about operas and poetry or occasionally about armour, which had been Margharita’s specialty in her youth. Lorenz has only early childhood memories of his mother in her prime, punching out everyone from soldiers on the Bridge to the current Margrave Gautier, who had visited and somehow offended her. 

“Lorenz,” Margharita said at lunch a week prior when Ferdinand had left to receive reports, “I know you are keen on our guest –”

“Mother,” Lorenz choked, quite out of turn and before he could catch himself.

“Anyone with an ounce of sense can tell,” Margharita scoffed as Lorenz covered his mouth to prevent any other traitorous reactions. “But you are going to chase him off if you keep nagging and crowding him. He isn’t like my Francis –”

Bringing up his father is enough to make Lorenz choke again. His mother glares at him briefly before continuing relentlessly.

“– who can do as he pleases. He needs someone to keep him in line. Ferdinand needs to be reminded that he does not have to be useful all the time.” 

Helen and Margharita’s words bounce around in Lorenz’s skull as he attempts to process their input along with Hilda’s points. It is, he has to admit, not particularly romantic. It is not at all the advice that Lorenz expected for his first (and he had always expected, only) relationship.

The smallest mercy is that his father has not gotten involved. Lorenz may expire in the event that happens.

Lorenz stews on all of this without making any concrete conclusions. Hilda leaves for Goneril after spending the night entertaining Margharita. Lorenz opts to take a day tour of the Bridge, assessing a couple of recent stonework repairs to the Adrestian end. It is easy work, especially since there haven’t been any recent reports of Adrestian patrols coming near. Those had stopped, Lorenz realises as he begins to head home, when Ferdinand received word that Manuela was not dead. 

Lorenz slows his horse. He replays the timeline in his head, deeply unsettled. Manuela had gone missing five months before, which is roughly when Ferdinand started fading noticeably enough that Margharita ambushed him with Helen at a family dinner. Nathaniel’s body was still reappearing in the mail in various forms, but his head came back about three and a half months ago. Ferdinand seemed to reach a peculiar point then, although Lorenz is unable to explain what that point was exactly. He had left for Derdriu along with Lorenz’s father with Nathaniel’s head, looking exactly as he had on the Bridge. 

Lorenz, kicking his horse into canter, realises now that his father didn’t go with Ferdinand simply because of the head. Ferdinand is not a gentle person. He was raised to challenge emperors and dispose of them if they proved unfit. He has no control over his innate magic and has accepted blood oaths in the manner preceding the Goddess. Everyone knows that Count Gloucester was involved with the former Duke Riegan’s death. Francis is, more than anything else and despite his deep faith, a mage of the occult. It was the only time in Lorenz’s memory that Francis took Thyrsus out of House walls, which he explained as simply because the road might be particularly dangerous.

There are many things that Lorenz cannot know. He is kept out of the loop because House Gloucester must survive. Even if the war destroys Fódlan, and the world collapses, Lorenz must keep his House standing. He has begun to sense that he will never leave Fódlan, and there is no way he may live away his own lands for even the short time he sought education in Fhirdiad and later Garreg Mach. That his father, wielding Thyrsus as a precaution, went with Ferdinand along with Nathaniel’s head while Lorenz stayed in Gloucester: 

Lorenz is a fool. 

**v.**

Lorenz finds Ferdinand in the conservatory. 

Despite how Ferdinand comes and goes whenever and however he pleases, he does not spend much time anywhere aside from the conservatory, his bedroom, and the stables. He spends a good amount of time in the training hall, but only when it is not busy and he doesn’t risk accidentally hurting anyone as part of his exercise. Lorenz approaches the conservatory, stopping at the closed door. He can hear Manuela speaking, loud enough to be certain of her words through the wood. 

“– are poor,” she says, and Lorenz recognises her tone as conversational; they’ve moved on from any urgent business. “There certainly aren’t any Aegir apples in the marketplace.” 

“I wouldn’t think so,” Ferdinand says, and he sounds leisurely if a little tired. “The trees require committed care. Marsha came with me, and she’s gone with her new wife, Darlene, to Derdriu recently to grow citrus. I think I might have called Thoron on the main beehives…” 

Lorenz has heard enough. He raises his hand as Manuela starts speaking again and knocks. There is a brief pause before boots approach the other side of the door. Lorenz drops his hand as the door swings open to reveal Ferdinand, hair still slightly damp from a wash and dressed in informal evening clothes. Manuela has stood up from the couch, expression curious as she observes Lorenz. She looks much herself again, although the poisoning she had suffered has left some scarring on her face and neck. It is still disconcerting to see her wear clothing that covers her bosom. 

Ferdinand smiles. 

“Good evening, Lorenz,” he says, and he looks wan but in fairly good spirits. “Is it dinner time already?”

Lorenz stares at him for a full moment, his head completely empty for the first time in several days. It is long enough that Manuela’s eyebrows stood up into her hairline, and Ferdinand blinks at him with a level of innocent curiosity that is honestly incredible he still has. 

Lorenz finally manages to open his mouth only to say: 

“I need to speak with you privately.” 

Manuela clearly bites her tongue to keep from reacting, eyes tearing with mirth. Ferdinand blinks again, thrown off somewhat before he seems to internally shrug. He turns to Manuela, who lets go of her tongue to say:

“It is getting pretty late, Ferdinand. I should meet with Isabella so she and her daughter don’t have to wait for dinner.” 

“Oh, yes, of course,” Ferdinand says, quite warmly. 

Lorenz is too keyed up to be more than superficially polite, but neither Ferdinand nor Manuela seem to hold it against him. If Lorenz had to guess, Ferdinand’s good spirits have more to with seeing Manuela doing better than any of the business he had returned from while Lorenz was at the Bridge. A part of Lorenz, thankfully buried under everything else at the moment, is absolutely mortified. 

Manuela departs but not without offering Lorenz a sly little smile as the door closes behind her. Ferdinand notices as well, although he doesn’t seem disturbed. It could be the smile appeared different from the angle that he was at, but sometimes Lorenz wonders if Ferdinand is deliberately obtuse. He shuts the door and turns to Lorenz with a very concerned expression. 

“What’s happened?” he asks, stepping forward and taking Lorenz’s right hand. “Is it Margharita? I thought she was napping when I returned –”

“Oh,” Lorenz says, suddenly aware that this would be a much more logical conclusion for Ferdinand to draw; he squeezes Ferdinand’s hand in reassurance. “No. I…” 

“Oh!” Ferdinand says, and his face splits into the most surprised and pleased expression that Lorenz has ever seen; “You have missed me!” 

Lorenz wonders, as Ferdinand closes the gap between them and presses their lips together, if being in love turns a person stupid. 

The kiss is good. Excellent, really. Ferdinand hums as Lorenz presses forward tentatively, and that is very nice. He smells of the lavender soap from the bath and tastes faintly of mint, which he probably served earlier. He is warm and, as he sucks momentarily on Lorenz’s bottom lip, very inviting.

When Lorenz pulls back, Ferdinand’s eyes take a moment to open. He focuses on Lorenz and smiles. His lips are full and there’s a bit of colour to his cheeks. Lorenz reaches up and cards his fingers through Ferdinand’s hair. It makes him smile more, eyes brightening with pleasure and amusement. 

“Hmm,” he murmurs, watching Lorenz watch him and play with the ends of his hair, “this is nice.”

That eases a little bit of the aching in Lorenz’s chest but not much. This close, he can see the shadows in Ferdinand’s eyes and the prominence of his jaw and cheekbones. The fading hasn’t lifted, but, Lorenz supposes, it wouldn’t. Ferdinand has been fading periodically in some shape or form since the start of the war. There isn’t much to be done. Ferdinand is Duke Aegir, and he is the Roundtable’s spymaster. It is unforgiving work, and, despite his lack of gentleness, Ferdinand is still sweet and terribly, wonderfully kind. 

So Lorenz must be gentle for him. 

“Come to bed?” Lorenz asks, even though he feels how bright he’s blushing to make such a request. 

It is worth it for the way Ferdinand’s face splits with a grin. It chases away some of the shadows within his eyes, and he shows his teeth as he tends not to. He laughs a little, shifting to follow Lorenz as he slides off the couch. 

“What brought this on?” Ferdinand asks, innocently curious as he no longer is about anything else.

Lorenz briefly considers lying, but so much of Ferdinand’s life revolves around secrets and lies. It is selfish, perhaps, but Lorenz doesn’t want them to be like that. 

“Hilda gave me an idea,” Lorenz says as Ferdinand opens his bedroom door. 

Ferdinand fumbles slightly, causing the door to swing open harder and the handle to knock against the wall. He looks at Lorenz with wide eyes, lips parted. The colour from earlier drains out of his skin. 

“Hilda –”

“Figured it out herself,” Lorenz says and hears his voice crack. 

“Oh,” Ferdinand says. 

He takes his hand from the door. Stands for a moment at a loss. He looks back at Lorenz, blinking in a faintly befuddled way. 

“What,” he starts, clearly attempting to find his footing again, “did she suggest?” 

Lorenz opens his mouth. Closes his mouth. He feels very flustered and not quite able to overcome the mood whiplash. 

“I,” he starts before clearing his throat and trying again. “I want to make you feel good. Like you have done for me. I would like you to tell me what to do, and I would like to do it. Whatever it is.” 

Ferdinand stares at him. His mouth is closed, but his eyes are very wide. Lorenz swallows. He watches the stillness and how it gives away to a wavering of Ferdinand’s gaze. He looks down, fingers flexing unsteadily. 

“Oh,” he breathes.

His body vibrates, somewhere between desperate want and fear. Ferdinand breathes out audibly. He looks up, and the fear subsides. 

“I…” he starts before he has to take another breath to steady himself. “I would like to try that, I think. I would –”

His voice cracks. Ferdinand flushes, but the momentary embarrassment also seems to give him back more of his bearings. He shifts, taking his hand from the door and batting nervously at his hair. Rest his palm against his cheek. 

Lorenz feels his heart clench. 

For a moment, Ferdinand looks almost like he did back in the academy. A little silly, attentive, and very sweet. Something about how intense this makes Lorenz feel must come across because Ferdinand looks away momentarily. The colour is still on his cheeks. He reaches up and fusses with his hair, glancing back at Lorenz through it. 

He looks sweetly nervous and very inviting at the same time. 

Lorenz will need to write Hilda to thank her first thing in the morning. 

“I,” Ferdinand starts and Lorenz steps forward, unable to resist this, “Um. I don’t really care about much above the waist. Not much feeling with the mark and all the… ah…”

It is instinctive for Lorenz to take that first complete sentence as his cue to place his hands on Ferdinand’s hips. A bit lower than he usually would. The informal evening clothes are loose enough to be comfortable, but they don’t leave much to the imagination either. Ferdinand looks down between them. Lorenz can’t tell at this angle how far down the blushing goes due to the tyranny of his hair, but Ferdinand’s cheeks are turning redder.

“You are serious,” he says, and Lorenz realises Ferdinand is looking at the hard outline of his cock in his trousers. 

“Of course I’m serious!” Lorenz says, sharper than he intends and squeezing his hold on Ferdinand before he catches himself; Ferdinand makes a noise and hides his face from view by pressing his forehead against the juncture of Lorenz’s neck and left shoulder. “I would like to take care of you, for once. You have done quite enough recently to please me.” 

His reward or punishment for this proclamation is Ferdinand making a strangled noise and fisting his hands in Lorenz’s doublet. He doesn’t lift his head, and Lorenz can feel how he tenses briefly before obviously forcing himself to ease. His hold on Lorenz’s doublet shifts, lightening slightly as he moves to press a kiss against Lorenz’s neck just above the collar. His breathing is not particularly steady. 

“I will be blunt then,” he murmurs, half to himself. 

Lorenz does not realise it is a warning until Ferdinand leans up to speak against the shell of his ear.

“I like being fucked best,” he whispers, matter of fact and fairly quick and each word traveling south from his lips to Lorenz’s dick, “and I like cocks like yours that have a good amount of length, but I haven’t been fucked or fingered in a long time. I would like you to fuck me, but we need to work up to that. So fingering would be good for now.” 

“Goddess blood,” Lorenz says, far too loudly. 

Ferdinand’s right hand shots down. He squeezes Lorenz by the balls through his trousers. Not hard and not at all unpleasantly, but enough that Lorenz manages to shut his mouth. He can feel Ferdinand shaking with muffled laughter.

“We need to work up to fucking,” Ferdinand says for clarity, finally lifting his face and grinning at whatever expression Lorenz is wearing. “I, ah, tend to be rather tight.” 

“That’s fine,” Lorenz says, breathless because Ferdinand is palming him purposefully. 

This is apparently the right thing to say because whatever reservations Ferdinand had been holding onto depart. He beams and moves both of his hands to start opening Lorenz’s trousers. Lorenz realises he is squeezing Ferdinand’s hips hard enough to bruise, but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

It occurs to Lorenz that Ferdinand might be the type to enjoy a bit of roughness. He certainly doesn’t like pulling his punches in the training hall, and he enjoys fighting even outside of the battlefield. He enjoys, Lorenz belatedly comes to understand as he watches Ferdinand eagerly undoing his smallclothes, human touch, but they live in positions where they usually have to hold themselves back. 

“Come to bed,” Ferdinand says, bright and warm as he pulls Lorenz’s cock free of his trousers’ flaps with a hungry expression. “I want to suck you for a bit and then we may get your fingers in me.” 

This leaves Lorenz rightly speechless. He lets Ferdinand manhandle him into his bedroom and stands uselessly for a moment before Ferdinand, clearly about to laugh at him, takes pity and helps him tug down his trousers and smallclothes before pushing him to sit on the side of the bed. Lorenz pulls himself together enough to lift his right hand and push Ferdinand’s hair out of his face as he lowers himself between Lorenz’s legs. 

“Thank you,” Ferdinand says with a smile before wrapping his right hand around the base of Lorenz’s cock and lowering his lips to the head with a pleased hum. 

Lorenz both hears and feels himself groan. He concentrates on helping Ferdinand keep his hair out of the way. Ferdinand is not adverse to hair pulling, but he doesn’t particularly like to get it dirty in this type of activity. They established that the first time Ferdinand sucked him off on the second night they bedded each other. Ferdinand had sucked him until he came and then had jerked himself off while Lorenz recovered. Looking back, Lorenz wonders if that was when Ferdinand decided he wanted Lorenz specifically to fuck him. 

He is aware that he is getting harder much faster with these thoughts accompanying the view of Ferdinand’s mouth full of his dick. His eyes are shut as he sucks at an almost lazy pace, his tongue moving in slow, uneven swirls on the head. He doesn’t move to take it deeper, but he does use his left hand to fondle Lorenz’s balls, squeezing lightly in encouragement. There isn’t much for Lorenz to do than sit and let Ferdinand have his pleasure sucking cock. Ferdinand’s pleasure is, in essence, the purpose of this entire exercise. 

Ferdinand squeezes him firmly before he opens his mouth, letting Lorenz’s cock go and licking his lips. He doesn’t look up, instead spending a moment gazing upon Lorenz’s erect cock and balls in his hands. He seems oddly pleased with the position, and Lorenz can see that he is erect as well in the informal evening clothes. 

“Goddess,” he murmurs, more to himself than Lorenz. “It will be so good when I can get you inside me.” 

Lorenz chokes on his own spit. He also pulls Ferdinand’s hair more roughly by accident as he coughs. He would apologise, but this seems to turn Ferdinand on because he groans and lets go of Lorenz’s cock to palm himself through his trousers. 

This thankfully stirs Lorenz’s brain back into some semblance of awareness. 

“Ferdinand,” he says, letting go of his hair reluctantly. “Come to bed.” 

Ferdinand lifts his head as Lorenz climbs fully onto the bed, kicking off his evening shoes and his trousers and smallclothes as he does. There’s an odd light to his eyes as he clambers to his feet, leaning down to unbuckle his own shoes. Lorenz eyes the tent in his trousers, which Ferdinand does not miss. Something about the attention seems to make Ferdinand even more interested.

“Lorenz,” he starts.

“Come here,” Lorenz says, and Ferdinand does. 

On the bed, Lorenz reaches out. He wraps his arms around Ferdinand’s shoulders and uses his slightly greater height and bulk to twist them so Ferdinand is lying down on the bed. It’s not quite perfect because Ferdinand only has one pillow and Lorenz misses it, but there is no resistance. Maybe Ferdinand doesn’t like the pillow in the first place. Lorenz will get him another or several. 

“Do you,” Lorenz starts before needing to clear his throat, “enjoy anything above the waist?”

Ferdinand stares up at him for a brief moment with a hazy expression before he registers what Lorenz has said. He smiles, humoured and more than a little amazed. 

“I enjoy kissing and stuff to do with my hair,” he says as Lorenz moves his hands over his evening tunic and to the light sash he prefers as a belt. “I just lack feeling in my shoulder and most of my chest and back. The left shoulder and arm and my hands are normal, I think. I do have some feeling on the left side of my neck. I have to admit: I don’t like biting very much.” 

“Biting?” Lorenz asks, thrown enough that he stills his hands before he remembers himself.

“Some people really like it,” Ferdinand says, slightly unfocused as Lorenz moves his hands to his hips. “What –”

Lorenz slides his hands lower, skimming his fingers over the curve of Ferdinand’s hips and then dipping between his thighs. Ferdinand blinks up at him, taken aback but not at all disinterested. 

“I want to try something,” Lorenz says, and he senses that he should make himself very clear because Ferdinand’s eyes flicker, “from the pillow books.” 

“Oh,” Ferdinand says, and whatever apprehension he might have felt is completely gone with the amusement colouring his gaze and tone. “Do you want me to get undressed?”

“I want to undress you,” Lorenz says, even though he chokes a little on the boldness of the words. 

“Oh,” Ferdinand says, surprised and very pleased. “Alright then.”

Lorenz can’t help but smile. He likes this. Ferdinand watches him with bright, attentive eyes as Lorenz moves his hands up between his thighs. He likes being able to see Ferdinand’s reactions as Lorenz palms him through his trousers, how he flushes and licks his lips. Like this, he reminds Lorenz not a little bit of the passages in the pillow books that everyone seemed to like best that were certainly more decadent in description. 

“In the books,” Lorenz says because he senses that the subject both amuses and pleases Ferdinand, “someone always takes someone else’s clothes off.”

His senses are correct because Ferdinand grins as Lorenz unties the sash at his waist and undoes trouser buttons. “I do feel rather pampered at the moment,” he admits, lifting his hips enough that Lorenz can tug his clothing down. 

_That is the idea_ , Lorenz would say, if his brain and his mouth would connect to each other. Then again, he also remembers his mother’s words. Perhaps his speechlessness is to his benefit here. 

They take a moment to get Ferdinand’s trousers off his legs. Lorenz tosses it and the sash over the side of the bed, not patient enough to fold it. Ferdinand laughs to himself as Lorenz unbuckles his garters and tugs his stockings off in much the same fashion. 

“You know,” he says as Lorenz chucks his left garter and stocking away, “I’ve probably read some of the same books as you.” 

Lorenz manages to make a questioning noise. Ferdinand watches him, amused and bright.

“This is when some people like biting.”

Lorenz mouth is full of spit that he nearly coughs all over them both. He takes a moment to swallow properly, his left hand still lifting Ferdinand’s ankle. Ferdinand watches him with a cat-like grin. 

“Just because I don’t like something doesn’t mean we can’t try it.” 

Any coherent thoughts depart Lorenz’s brain. He clenches his fist around Ferdinand’s ankle, instinctively tugging him forward. Ferdinand scoots with the motion willingly, the same wickedly self-satisfied grin on his lips. He hasn’t looked like this since they were having tea back at Garreg Mach, discussing who to dance with at the ball. Lorenz had talked about meeting someone to the Goddess Tower, and Ferdinand had laughed and told him he should. 

Now:

_If I had understood myself better, then I would have asked you_

Something of the rush of feeling shows on his face because Ferdinand blinks. Lorenz scoots forward, right knee brushing up against Ferdinan’s lower right thigh. He leans forward, resting Ferdinand’s left ankle upon his shoulder, and presses a kiss to the curve of his calf. 

“I want to do what you like,” Lorenz says, rough and more into the skin than he intended. “I don’t know what I like yet, so what you like must be good, right?”

It is quiet. Lorenz pulls back enough to look at Ferdinand again. The expression there: 

Ferdinand stares at him. His gaze is wide and clear and open. Lorenz breathes in, and he can smell Ferdinand’s innate magic. For the first time, it does not burn to breathe it. Instead, Lorenz feels like he can smell the morning and a light breeze through an orchard full of blossoms that do not grow in Gloucester. 

In Aegir, they used to grow apples. 

“Lorenz,” Ferdinand says, and there is power to his words and a great well of what Lorenz can only term as _love_ , “please put your fingers in me.” 

There is no denying. Lorenz inches forward, and Ferdinand shifts to lie more on his right side. Lorenz looks down, studying the pink ring of muscle and the sparse coarse hair around it and between the cleft. 

“Aah,” Ferdinand says, more in a normal tone as Lorenz pushes his legs further apart so he can better see, “I don’t have oil for this.”

Lorenz cannot help how the sudden pride swells in his chest. Ferdinand stares at him, baffled as Lorenz reaches into his dinner vest and its inner pocket where he usually keeps a handkerchief.

“I brought oil.”

Ferdinand bursts out laughing. He shifts into a position that cannot be particularly comfortable to watch Lorenz open the vial and use the majority of the contents to generously coat his fore, middle, and ring fingers. This preparation and foresight has less to do with Lorenz’s extensive reading of pillow books and more to do with his more recent training as a healer, but the two sets of knowledge do overlap. 

“Mhm,” Ferdinand hums as Lorenz recaps the vial and sets it on the bed; the glass is strong enough not to fear breaking. “You have nice hands.” 

“Do I,” Lorenz says, attempting to concentrate on Ferdinand’s ass as his own dick twitches at the praise. 

“Yes,” Ferdinand says; he groans deep in his chest as Lorenz touches the pad of his forefinger to his hole. “Please, I would like to feel them before the breaking of the world.” 

“Goddess blood,” Lorenz swears but takes at as his cue to push in. 

Ferdinand moans. Shifts into a less contorted position and clenches around half of Lorenz’s forefinger. Lorenz stops until Ferdinand unclenches and then slowly eases the rest of his finger in, conscious of how Ferdinand makes small, positive noises as he does. 

“Hm,” Ferdinand sighs; Lorenz glances up to find Ferdinand eyes half-closed as he convinces his body to relax. “It’s been a long time.” 

Lorenz pauses. “Is it –”

“No,” Ferdinand says, opening his eyes fully; the look he offers Lorenz is somewhat distant but not at all in an unpleasant way. “I just don’t do this for myself. I forgot how much I like it.” 

Lorenz is not sure how a person could forget liking something like this. He is not going to question it at the moment, especially since he can see from how Ferdinand’s cock is full and heavy that his enjoyment is no small thing. He continues working his forefinger into Ferdinand, who blinks a couple of times before shifting and making eye contact with Lorenz again. He looks a little over focused.

“Don’t worry,” he says through a short breath; he adjusts his leg on Lorenz’s shoulder for better purchase. “Please add another.”

Despite his good sense, Lorenz does. He eases his middle finger in, slower than Ferdinand likely wanted. It is the right choice, though, because Ferdinand grimaces and shifts, drawing back momentarily before pressing against Lorenz’s fingers when he starts to pull them out. 

“No,” and the protest has an edge of desperation that goes straight to Lorenz’s dick and overrides his disposition to caution. “Keep going.” 

Lorenz nods, but he doesn’t push harder. He moves his forefinger, which is much deeper, in short, stroking motions. Ferdinand breathes out, his right hand moving down to wrap around his own cock. He watches Lorenz with a concentrated but also bleary expression as he strokes himself. Lorenz reaches up with his left hand to keep Ferdinand’s leg steady on his shoulder, sensing that Ferdinand isn’t going to be able to do it himself soon. 

“Lorenz,” he murmurs as he begins to relax enough to begin taking more of Lorenz’s middle finger. “I really want you to fuck me.” 

“Why?” Lorenz can’t help but ask as he tries to concentrate on flexing his fingers now that they’re both in enough to do so. 

Ferdinand groans. He shifts his legs wider, pressing down eagerly on Lorenz’s hand. He fists his cock, which is dribbling precum on his hand, stomach, his evening tunic, and the bedding. 

“Really like being fucked,” Ferdinand whispers, looking at Lorenz in a fond, unfocused way and breathing through his mouth, leaving his lips parted. “Feels really good. Keep… moving. Yes. Like that.” 

Lorenz twists his fingers as he had just done. Ferdinand grunts, eyes drooping and his hand moving roughly on his cock. Lorenz repeats the motion and finds that his fingers are able to slip in further. There is a bizarre thrill to that, and Lorenz is starting to hurt with how hard he himself is. He keeps his left hand on Ferdinand’s ankle, though, and concentrates on trying to keep his fore and middle fingers moving, pressing deeper –

“Aah –”

Lorenz keeps his fingers in as Ferdinand comes messily, bucking into his own hand and also moving Lorenz’s fingers deeper into his ass to the knuckles. Ferdinand swears, slightly garbled and under his breath. For once, Lorenz does not think about blasphemy. He flexes and twists his fingers in Ferdinand and feels oddly, exquisitely powerful when Ferdinand moans and dribbles a bit more cum.

Somehow, he finds it in himself to look to Lorenz. His expression, blissful, decadent, and barely focused –

“Lorenz,” Ferdinand whispers. “Finish yourself, please.”

Lorenz has maintained only enough brainpower to follow such a command and to not yank his fingers out of Ferdinand’s ass to do so. He keeps his fingers inside Ferdinand and instead lowers his left leg to the bed to free up his left hand. Lorenz wraps his hand around his cock with a loud moan of relief. He strokes himself hard and fast, using his own precum to ease his touch. 

He comes quickly and without warning, shooting off partially on his vest, his left sleeve, and Ferdinand’s leg. He tips over to lie to Ferdinand’s left and out of the worst of the mess, unconsciously pulling his fingers out of Ferdinand’s ass as he goes. Ferdinand groans at the loss, and Lorenz’s brain registers it distantly as his dick softens between his legs. 

“Sorry,” he manages to mumble.

“‘s okay,” Ferdinand responds, clearly only half-conscious.

Lorenz feels heavy and sated, but he is also very aware that they have made a complete mess. In the past, since Ferdinand didn’t always finish, he would clean up. Right now –

“Later,” Ferdinand mumbles, somehow following Lorenz’s thoughts. 

He rolls over, heedless of the mess of fluids and buries his face against the crown of Lorenz’s head. Breathes in. Out. 

Lorenz reaches out. Rests his hand against Ferdinand’s bare thigh. 

They fall asleep together and have good dreams. 

**postscript.**

_Dear Hilda Valentine Goneril,_

_I hope this letter finds you and Holst in good health, and I hope that your father is not in too much pain. The weather must be warming this time of the year in Goneril. I hope that you are not overworking yourself, and that your new object of affection is treating you as you should be as a daughter of a noble House._

_You may wonder why you are receiving such a hefty package and this letter. I wish to thank you for your recent words of wisdom in a manner befitting of your generosity._

_These books have been greatly pleasing to me. I hope that the contents please you, too. I have read recently this whole series by Anthiese C— and can attest that they are all highly entertaining tales of the ladies of high seas and their handsome pirates. You must tell me which of the tales you like the best; I have my opinions and welcome a lively debate the next we see each other._

_The hamper contains Gloucester wine, which I implore you to try without watering as I am sure you will see its merits are stellar. I have also included caramels (which I hope will not become too badly deformed in transit), the shortbread in the same recipe we last had with tea, and lemon curd. I hope that you enjoy these with what tea you have available. I unfortunately am affected by the current shortage of tea and cannot find your favourites at the market._

_These material goods are not sufficient to fully express my thanks to you, but I hope my sentiments come to you in their sincerity. You are a true friend, and I am forever grateful for your kindness._

_Wishing you all the luck in love as you have given me,  
Lorenz Hellman Gloucester_

_P.S. Ferdinand also sends his regards, although he is not aware of the contents of this letter or the purpose of this package. He has also read the books, though, so we may include him in our debate. He is also of the opinion that the best wine is from Edmund, but I am not about to allow him unwatered wine, so you must give me your honest opinion once you taste the bottles I have sent you._

_P.P.S. And before you ask, yes, he is aware that these are pillow books, and he is rather better than them, which you may not ask him about nor tell him I said. You are both menaces._


End file.
